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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27174097">Everybody Knows (the deal is rotten)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiresFromOurHearts/pseuds/FiresFromOurHearts'>FiresFromOurHearts</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Naruto Prompts [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Naruto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brotherly Love, Canon does not follow from that death though, Canonical Character Death, Eye Trauma, Founders Week 2020, Gen, Ghosts, Honestly he probably needs a hug, Inspired by Orpheus and Eurydice (Ancient Greek Religion &amp; Lore), Listen sometimes you get a chance by the gods to save your brother and you go to do so, Potential mindfuck, Protective Uchiha Madara, That's like a required tag for any Uchiha character I think, Uchiha Madara-centric, questionable sanity, sometimes it means you're not sure what's real and what isn't but that's fine, uchiha clan compound</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 01:56:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,714</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27174097</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiresFromOurHearts/pseuds/FiresFromOurHearts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A story inspired by Orpheus and Eurydice, except there's no romance and no real gods, except there are brothers and death and the Sharingan.<br/> <br/><i>(Or Madara goes to hunt down his brother from what might be the Underworld and has one chance to save his brother so he may live again.)</i></p><p>Day 2 of Founders Week: <s>Swap AU</s> | <b>Mythology</b></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Uchiha Izuna &amp; Uchiha Madara</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Naruto Prompts [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1982980</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Founders Week 2020, Genuary 2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Everybody Knows (the deal is rotten)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title stolen from Everybody Knows. Also <b>warning</b> for eye trauma and things. More like Madara picks out his own eyes and it's not very nice. It's not a major, major thing but it does happen and it's around for a few hundred words. Parts you'll want to skip, to avoid it, is from 'But... Tajima' to the 'The moment both feet'. You might always want to skip 'It's not easier this time' to 'You may cross'.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Izuna is injured, <em>(not dying not dying-not-dyingnotdyingNOTDYING)</em>, and Madara is spiralling and he knows it. He’s a mirror fractured, sending shards of glass flying in every direction, slashing at anyone who comes near, because Izuna is injured and Madara can do <em>nothing</em>.</p><p>The list of things Madara wouldn’t do for his <em>(last)</em> youngest brother is incredibly short. In fact, there’s only one thing on it—that he wouldn’t destroy the clan for Izuna, <em>(at least, not in his right mind but Izuna’s injurednotdying and Madara’s already spiralling out of sanity)</em>. For Izuna, Madara would burn the world; sacrifice himself; pluck out his eyes and feed them to the crows.</p><p>And so, Madara finds himself kneeling in the clan shrine begging the Uchiha gods and goddesses to do something—<em>anything</em>—to save Izuna. But the gods have never helped the Uchiha before, and they do not meddle in the lives of mortals. Madara is on his own, <em>(soon to be left alone, Izuna leaving to a place beyond Madara’s reach)</em>.</p><p>The gods do not answer and Madara returns to where Izuna rests, feverish and pale, and Madara wants to rage, wants to send streams of fire up to the sky, wants to murder every Senju he can get his hands on, but Izuna is here and Madara will not—cannot—leave him. So he chokes his feelings down and bows his head and holds tight to Izuna’s clammy hand. If Izuna is to die, Madara will make sure he is there until the end, <em>(Madara will not have another brother die so far from home, so alone, surrounded only by enemies)</em>.</p><p>Sometimes, though, even ninjas must bow to the whims of their body. And Madara, having spent multiple days awake during which he fought a battle and has been fearing for Izuna for every second, falls asleep. And Madara’s brother…</p><p>Slowly</p><p>stops</p><p>breathing.</p>
<hr/><p>On the cusp of sleep, Madara hears a voice speak.</p><p>
  <em>We cannot save your brother, but we can give you a chance you would not otherwise had, (gIVe mY bRotHEr’S dReAM a cHAncE).</em>
</p><p>It sounds remarkably like Senju Tobirama.</p>
<hr/><p>Madara opens his eyes to a desert. It reminds him of the Land of Wind. The sand stretches out in every direction, the dunes crest high above his head, hiding the horizon from his sight. There’s no explanation as to why Madara is here, <em>(a chance)</em>, nor is there a clear path to follow.</p><p>But Madara knows his geography. He’s taken a few missions in the Land of Wind, felt the hot wind pressing against him, the sun scorching his neck, his lips chapped. No matter where he is, heading east is his best chance to return-</p><p>Return where? Where is he going? He has a chance, <em>(<strike>FOr A</strike> to save)</em>, to save his brother, but this isn’t his world. The sun and moon above in the sky, both appearing as they would normally, reveal that this isn’t what Madara is used to.</p><p>If he is to find Izuna anywhere though, Madara knows, it will be home. To the Land of Fire then. East.</p><p>Wherever he is, whatever this world is, it doesn’t stop Madara from running. Channelling chakra through his body, he races across the sand, body bent almost double against the wind that howls and screams and never stops pressing against him. This is for his <em>brother</em> though, <em>(my brother<strike>’S dREaM</strike>)</em>, and there is little Madara wouldn’t do for his brother.</p><p>And so he runs, runs and runs and runs. Eventually, a dark blur appears on the horizon. A smudge against the ever-shimmering air. No matter how much Madara runs, it doesn’t seem to get closer. The desert still stretches out forever and, only hours later, does Madara realise how silent it is. The wind howls, but that is all. There’s no other sign of life.</p><p>It seems almost pointless to keep going. He’s getting nowhere, so why bother? The wind pushes against him, he skids down dunes and struggles up them. The very world around him seems to laugh at his struggling, tries to shove him down to the ground.</p><p>Madara bares his teeth at the world. “I won’t stop!” He shouts, rage and fury crackling on his tongue. “I’ll keep going no matter what you throw at me!” After all this is for his brother, <em>(I fight for, always)</em>.</p><p>Once again, he pushes forward. His feet sink in the sand, but he pulls them out and he keeps going. He almost falls down a sand dune, skidding, but he keeps his balance and keeps going. The wind forces him back down a dune, but he gets back to his feet and keeps going. He won’t stop. He can’t stop. He never will.</p><p>The wind howls around him, and—somehow—it seems to speak into his ear with a familiar voice. “Why do you run? Surely you know this is an impossible task. You cannot save Izuna. Give up now and save yourself the trouble.”</p><p>Madara grits his teeth and throws his weight forward, struggling up an insurmountable dune. “Fuck you,” he spits. “I’ve never given up on Izuna before, why would I start now? Just watch me. I’ll fucking do it!”</p><p>For a heartbeat, the wind is silent. Then it cackles, horrifyingly loud, and circles around Madara like a miniaturised tornado. Madara raises a hand to his eyes, squints against the wind, and continues walking upwards.</p><p>The wind disappears like it was never there, and trees stand in front of Madara. They’re not the trees in the Land of Rivers, but the trees he’s used to seeing in the Land of Fire. Somehow, he’s skipped over a whole country, without even passing through—and he doesn’t remember making it to the blur on the horizon either, <em>(had it ever been there in the first place?)</em>. This world doesn’t make sense, but that’s fine. Madara can still run, can still fight, and so he can continue.</p><p>He steps forward. The trees surround him, <em>(<strike>tHErE iS no EScApE</strike>)</em>, and the sky above disappears. The world turns to darkness. Madara activates his Sharingan and doesn’t stop.</p>
<hr/><p>Forests make Madara uneasy. At least the Land of Fire’s forests do. They’re thick and oppressive, hiding dangers in the shadows, but what unsettles him the most is how the trees can turn on him. Hashirama’s Wood Release is something that makes any ninja worth their chakra anxious as they speed through the trees. Madara is no different.</p><p>This forest, whilst not the forests he travels through in the Land of Fire, is similar with its gigantic trees that stretch upwards forever and ever. The trunks are thick, thicker than even Madara’s used to. But, in this place, it’s not the trees that make him unnerved.</p><p>It’s the way the forest seems out to get him. Brambles catch on his clothing, thorns scratch his skin, and branches give way suddenly beneath his feet. Normally, forests aren’t this dangerous on their own, but this is no normal forest.</p><p>
  <em>(The thickness of the plants means he can’t see too far ahead even with the Sharingan. But he shouldn’t need the Sharingan just to see—but there is no light here. Only darkness.)</em>
</p><p>After a few minutes of running, Madara realises how silent it is. Forests aren’t often silent. They might go silent for a few minutes, but not for longer. And as Madara runs, the silence doesn’t disappear. It makes his shoulder rise, sending shivers creeping up his spine. There’s nothing else to do but run, <em>(Izuna is waiting and Madara is coming; he will always come)</em>, and so Madara runs.</p><p>One thing Madara is thankful for, though, is the wind. It’s not whipping around him or whispering lies. He seems to have left it behind in the desert, <em>(and he hopes he won’t see it again)</em>.</p><p>He doesn’t know how long he runs for, <em>(only that his muscles ache but he won’t stop; can’t stop)</em>, before he hears the sound of running water. It comes from out of nowhere. It doesn’t build, just erupts unexpectedly. Automatically, Madara orientates himself towards it and speeds up, trusting that there is something beyond the trees.</p><p>
  <em>(The river is loud, a thing of whispers, water smoothly running downstream. <strike>It yELlS. ComE tO me. JOiN uS In pEAcE. TheRe iS No pAIn HerE.</strike>)</em>
</p><p>Before he reaches the river, Madara sees the first break in the trees. He races towards it, pauses just before the river to scan the surroundings. The forest appears to continue on the other side of the river, and that’s about the only thing that makes some sense.</p><p>The river looks like the Naka River, but it’s far too wide—and deep, from the looks of it. The current is swift, looks dangerously strong to the point where Madara wouldn’t be too confident with his ability to swim across it.</p><p>But none of that catches Madara’s attention first. No, what’s in the river catches his attention. Corpses. Bloated corpses float down the river. And Madara may have fought in battlefields, seen the aftermath of massacres, finds himself fighting revulsion. There are too many corpses here—bloated, ugly things. There’s so many of them it’s impossible to walk across the surface of the river. Madara is stranded on one side.</p><p>Except, he’s not. Because the river parts, revealing the barren riverbed, and a man—a shinobi—walks from one side to the other.</p><p>Madara swallows. The shinobi is familiar, <em>(dead years ago, fallen in a battlefield and leaving Madara to grieve his passing)</em>. The face that stares out at him is almost as familiar as Madara’s own, <em>(like Izuna’s, but slightly off)</em>.</p><p>“Well?” The shinobi demands, glaring up at Madara as he steps up onto solid ground and the river rushes together. “Are you getting down here? I didn’t raise you to be this ill-mannered.”</p><p>The voice sounds the same. The words bring back numerous training sessions. Madara drops to the ground, <em>(did he do that or is something controlling him? He doesn’t know)</em>. This place is strange—the desert, the wind, the forest. Perhaps this is a trick. Maybe it’s all a hallucination, but if Izuna’s at the end of his path, there’s no way Madara will stop.</p><p>
  <em>(He’d do anything for Izuna. <strike>REmeMbER thE dREaM.</strike>)</em>
</p><p>“That’s better,” the shinobi says, appraising him with Sharingan-red eyes. “Hmph. Look at you. Better be leading the clan well. Won the war yet?”</p><p>Madara almost bows his head against the words, feels them beat against his shoulders. “The clan is well,” he answers, <em>(but the number of dead is something that’s never far from his mind; it goes up every week and never seems to pause)</em>. “How do I get across the river?”</p><p>Uchiha Tajima frowns at him. “Didn’t I teach you subtlety?” He asks, before waving his hand. “No matter. How do you think you get across?”</p><p>“With your help,” Madara says, and the words sound true. They make sense. And yet- Yet this is his father, and Madara has never felt fully certain in the face of his father. “Right?”</p><p>“This isn’t a charity,” Tajima responds. “You have to give something to get across. Payment.”</p><p>Payment sounds like it should be something of monetary value, but Madara knows that such a thing wouldn’t have enough worth. He has nothing here anyway. No weapons. No armour. Nothing.</p><p>But… Tajima had been an Uchiha. Maybe the man—if he is one—isn’t really Tajima, but he has an Uchiha face and that gives Madara an idea. There’s only one thing that Uchihas would prize above everything else. Heart in throat, Madara considers it. He already knows what he’s going to do. <em>For Izuna</em>, he thinks. Gritting his teeth, he carefully places one hand over his right eye and removes it.</p><p>It squelches, hurts like nothing else, and Madara desperately wants to stop. He never thought he’d do something like this, not willingly, <em>(not unless he died)</em>. But this is for Izuna, <em>(his youngest brother; his last brother)</em>.</p><p>The eye, Sharingan still spinning, is dropped into Tajima’s waiting hand. Tajima curls his hand and the eye looks like it pops, before the gooey mess disappeared. The river parts and Tajima begins walking to the other side. Hastily, Madara follows.</p><p>Blood drips down his face and the only thing he can feel is pain—but the knowledge that this is for Izuna forces Madara onward, <em>(it always will)</em>. The riverbed is smooth beneath his feet, he doesn’t stumble somehow.</p><p>He has to struggle his way up the riverbank on the other side, and it reminds him of the desert dunes. Tajima watches from above, eyes unconcerned. Madara feels like a small child, once again, doing his best to meet Tajima’s expectations and fearing that he would fall short.</p><p>The moment both feet are on the riverbank, the river surges together and Tajima disappears. The pain in Madara’s eye disappears too. He can’t help but feel thankful, and sick to his stomach with the knowledge of what he’s done, <em>(but he doesn’t regret it)</em>.</p><p>Once again, Madara presses onward and continues on into the forest. Izuna awaits, <em>(he hopes)</em>.</p>
<hr/><p>There’s no path, but there rarely is in forests. The only paths are those of civilians and animals, nothing a ninja would use. Ninjas use the tree branches, wherever they can, away from the dangers, <em>(though other places stick to the ground, not trusting the trees around them)</em>. Madara, though, is pressing forward through the undergrowth.</p><p>Losing an eye doesn’t just impact your vision, Madara knows. Depth perception, motion tracking, and a whole host of other abilities are impacted. Skills that, as a ninja, Madara needs if he wants to stay alive. In this world, at least, he doesn’t have to fight, <em>(hasn’t yet)</em>, but tree hopping is beyond him. Falling here and landing wrongly might just mean the end of it all, and Madara refuses. He will save Izuna, <em>(there’s no other option)</em>.</p><p>So Madara marches forward, stumbles and rights himself and starts working on navigating with one eye. No matter what happens, whether he falls and grazes his hands or hits a tree trunk he thought was further away, he continues.</p><p>He’s not sure how time passes anymore. Whether it’s been an hour or ten minutes. It seems the same. He keeps walking, refuses to stop, <em>(he will not let Izuna wait more than he has to)</em>.</p><p>Eventually, he spies light splintering through the trees up ahead. He quickens his pace automatically, even if only danger lies up ahead, he wants to be out of this darkness, <em>(it’s almost a guarantee that there will be danger, but that’s never scared Madara before)</em>.</p><p>That doesn’t mean he emerges into the light without seeing what lies ahead, however. No matter what Izuna says, Madara isn’t an idiot. Hidden in the forest, Madara deactivates his Sharingan, the light strong enough to see for the first time since the desert.</p><p>What catches his attention first is the accumulation of people in the clearing. They gather together, lines seeming to blur. The strangest part is how indistinguishable all of their features are. Madara triggers his Sharingan for a heartbeat, but they still remain unclear. It’s strange—but the kind of strange that almost seems to make sense, in this place.</p><p>The shades of people move mindlessly, never seeming to lessen although every one seems to exit the clearing. Madara moves on from the shades, glancing instead at the main obstacle in the clearing. At first, it blends well and truly into the rest of the forest but Madara is used to fighting Hashirama, he knows to look beyond the surface appearance of the forest.</p><p>At the end of the clearing stands a gate-like structure that all the shades leave through. Two tall trees grow upwards, before joining together, forming a seemingly natural archway. What really catches his attention, though, are the roots that are hanging from both sides of the archway. It looks they’re floating, and they’re long enough to reach together and tangle together. They could probably fall a wall of roots that even Madara’s hottest fire jutsu might not burn, <em>(he’s tried before, failed before)</em>.</p><p>As Madara watches, the roots twist, narrowing in on one shade briefly. Then, they go back to normal as if nothing had happened. A gust of wind ruffles through the leaves of the tree and wraps itself around him.</p><p>“You’ll never get through the gate,” it whispers to him. “You might as well give up. You’re not dead. The gate will not allow you through.” It cackles, rattles the nearby branches, and Madara does not shift, <em>(no matter how much he might wish too)</em>. “Izuna will die because you are not as skilled as you think you are!”</p><p>
  <em>(“Hey, Madara! Bet I can skip a rock further than you!”)</em>
</p><p>Madara grits his teeth and turns his attention to the root-gate. It’s an obstacle of some kind, and one he will have to fight. And Madara knows that his ability to fight currently is the worst it’s been in years. That doesn’t make it impossible, just tricky.</p><p>“How can you do anything with one eye?” The wind says, twisting around him, and beginning to rise. It cackles, again. “You traded your eye away on a useless journey! Izuna will die and you will have one eye!” And then it’s gone.</p><p>Slowly, Madara breathes out. The wind is just trying to get under his skin, trying to make him doubt his abilities. But he can do this, will do this. Izuna is waiting.</p><p>Maybe Madara can’t fight well. He’s still got other talents, though. And he might not be the fastest in the Uchiha Clan, but he’s not that slow either. He steps out of the bushes and into the clearing.</p><p>It’s almost strange, feeling the light on his skin after so much time spent in darkness. He continues forward regardless, one foot in front of the other. Eerily, the roots turn to face him, blunt edges seeming to stare at him. He steps forward again. The roots don’t move.</p><p>He steps forward again. The roots remain stationary.</p><p>Now, he’s only a few paces away, he could maybe speed through before the roots grab him. He’ll have to immediately dart sideways once past the roots—they might be able to come after him from the other side. They shouldn’t be able to predict his actions, <em>(it’s all the hope he really has)</em>.</p><p>He steps forward. The roots shoot forward. Madara <em>runs</em>.</p><p>
  <em>(<strike>mY brOtHEr’S drEaM.</strike>)</em>
</p><p>Before the roots hit him, Madara dives, rolls, and comes up beneath the roots. The gateway is only a step away and he lunges for it, slips through, and comes out on the other side. A tendril slips around his ankle, <em>(almost comforting; almost familiar; <strike>my BRotHeR</strike>)</em>, and then Madara is on the other side and free.</p><p>He’s not breathing heavily, perfectly controlled, and looks around. The forest is different here. For one, it’s not dark, but that’s not what Madara notices first. The deadness of the forest is what he notices. The trees are skeletons, dead things. The ground is full of the broken husks of leaves. He has a feeling he’s not meant to be here—something alive in this world of dead things. But Izuna is ahead of him, somewhere, and so Madara continues forward once more.</p>
<hr/><p>This forest isn’t silent in the worst of ways. The ground is littered with brown leaves and wherever Madara steps, they crunch and crackle as they break into many tiny pieces. Even if he trusted his ability to tree hop, he wouldn’t do it here—the branches are too brittle to properly hold his weight. They wouldn’t just dip if he stood on them, but snap instantly instead.</p><p>And the wind, that had disappeared before, is back again. It whistles cheerfully as it sends branches falling from the tops of the trees, rustles up leaves to block Madara’s vision, and still it talks. It taunts him, doubts him with every forward step, and he is forced to grit his teeth and continue because shouting at the wind does nothing but make it laugh at him.</p><p>There’s no way but forward, and though he might not have a direction, Madara knows he’s going in the right direction<em>, (he can’t believe otherwise).</em> </p><p>At least there’s light here. But even the sunlight feels unwelcoming, cascading down through the dead trees. It falls on Madara’s skin and feels cold, somehow. </p><p>Even knowing that this place is likely made to unnerve him doesn’t help, but—<em>for Izuna, </em>Madara reminds himself. He will not stop.</p><p>“Perhaps this is all a lie,” the wind whispers to him. “Maybe nothing lies ahead but your own doom.” Once again, it cackles, and then with a twist it rises above Madara to circle in the treetops. </p><p>“If you think that’s what will happen you know nothing about me,” Madara spits out. He forces his way over two fallen trees, shoving branches out of the way. Most of the wood is strong beneath his feet, but for one part of the wood gives instead, sending Madara’s hand plunging into the rotten wood. </p><p>Grimacing, Madara pulls out his hand and wipes the wet rot on his clothes. It clings to his fingers before he finally manages to get the gunk out from between his fingers. Relieved, he looks up to see what lies ahead, hopefully not more trees that are rotten. And-</p><p>The world around him has changed, the never-ending forest of skeleton trees. Instead, familiar buildings surround him—the Uchiha Clan Compound. Looking around, Madara tries to figure out what’s making him unsettled. This place feels familiar, but odd somehow. Is it the quiet? Is it the lack of movement? Is it his missing clanmates?</p><p>
  <em>(Is it the way the buildings loom rather than stand still? Is it the way the shadows are too dark and you can’t see anything in them? Is it the how familiar this place is yet so far from what home really is?)</em>
</p><p>A door opens. The sound loud and sudden. Madara jerks, spinning around to face the noise as he drops into a crouch, prepared to attack. Nothing seems to be targeting him though. He doesn’t relax however—can’t relax, not when there’s an Uchiha ghost walking around.</p><p>Madara swallows. It’s not one ghost either. There are many ghosts here and-</p><p><em>Izuna</em>, he reminds himself. He’s here for <em>Izuna</em>, not other ghosts left in the past, long dead and buried, <em>(they cling to him though, remain in his heart, bury shards of broken promises in his chest)</em>. If there are Uchiha ghosts here, though, that means somewhere Izuna is here. Madara just has to find his little brother.</p><p>
  <em>(The ghosts don’t seem to see him. Walk past him, look through him, and Madara fights back chills. Does his best to ignore the ghosts all around him. They don’t attack and so he can ignore them, and the gruesome injuries they commonly sport. War, it seems, has left them scarred even in death.)</em>
</p><p>The one bright side to all of this, to the compound and its ghosts, is that Madara knows where he is. The paths are paved with stone and he can follow them, <em>(these are paths he knows, can see even with his eyes closed)</em>. There’s a few places Izuna could be, and Madara lets his feet guide him. The closest, and one of the most likely places, is the house for the Clan Head, <em>(where Madara’s family has lived for generations, where Kou died even though he should’ve been safe)</em>.</p><p>It’s the reminder of Kuro’s ghost, <em>(the younger brother Madara never got to know, the one-year-old child assassinated, the reminder that the house would never really be completely safe)</em>, of the blood that seems to stain the floor years later, of the people who should be there but aren’t, <em>(don’t think about Izuna not being there, don’t-think-don’tthinkdon’tthinkdoN’TTHINK)</em>, that gets Madara moving. He runs. Tries not to think about Izuna remaining the Clan Head house as a ghost, <em>(and him, alone, the last of what should have been five brothers)</em>.</p><p>The rooftops are strong beneath his feet, and he pushes forward, navigating each leap perfectly, knowing the tilts and gaps so well he doesn’t need his full vision. The Clan Head house arises, perfectly aligned with his memories, and Madara hits the ground before it and- Stops.</p><p>It’s not silent. The house, that is. There’s noise coming from it. And Izuna isn’t at the engawa, waiting for Madara to return like he’s been on a mission. Then again, Izuna didn’t know Madara was coming, perhaps he’s inside?</p><p>Madara hesitates on the steps. Something trickles down his spine, foreboding. It feels like he shouldn’t be here, but that’s how he’s been feeling the entire time—just a bit more intense, so Madara forces his feelings down and slides open the door, slowly, quietly. After all, he doesn’t know what lies ahead.</p><p>Laughter rises.</p><p>There’s a family in the house.</p><p>
  <em>(<strike>sEe wHAt CoULd’vE bEeN? tHis We wILl NeVer haVe. ThERe Is nO pEaCE</strike>.)</em>
</p><p>Three brothers. Not-quite full grown. Far from full grown, <em>(dead too young; small bodies burnt—when bodies could be found)</em>. Their names are heavy in Madara’s mouth. Taste like ash. Kou. Kuro. Togakushi.</p><p>Madara retreats a step. Another. Leaves the house with the door open. Izuna is not there. Izuna is <em>alive</em>. And if Izuna’s alive, then he can’t be here—not in this house full of ghosts. Izuna has to be elsewhere. Izuna is <em>waiting</em> and Madara is coming.</p><p>The wind curls around him, its whispering voice filling his ears. “You could join them,” it says, voice silky smooth. “You could be happy. There’s no war here. You can stop now. You can <em>rest</em>.”</p><p>Madara grits his teeth and twists away from the house, <em>(it’s their house but it’s not home, not where Izuna would rest, why did he bother coming here?)</em>. The wind rages, twists around him in a hurricane, and screams. “Selfish! You are selfish! To choose one brother above three others. They would curse you if you ever knew. You abandon your own family for one brother!” The words cut into Madara’s heart, leave bleeding wounds in their wake, and Madara swallows, <em>(doesn’t cry)</em>.</p><p>This time he speeds towards a training ground, chakra circling through his body and driving him forward even faster. Adrenaline surges through his veins, his mind frizzy and anxious with thoughts he can’t think, <em>(won’t let himself think)</em>. And then, he reaches the training ground, sliding to a halt in the muddied ground by the edge.</p><p>There, on the opposite side, eyes closed and running through his katas stands Izuna. Madara breathes out, a sigh spilling from his lips, heart easing from its frantic pulse. His mind hums, one word echoing throughout.</p><p>
  <em>Izuna. Izuna. Izuna.</em>
</p><p>Madara steps forward. Except, something immediately appeared separating him from Izuna, <em>(so close and yet-)</em>. The something in question is black, its edges blurred. When it shifts, it seems to extend upwards, unfolding more and more limbs that have no end. There’s nothing beyond the darkness, it doesn’t just swallow the light but devours it.</p><p>Madara drags his eyes away to find himself having stepped backwards. His legs feel like they are made of weights, and when he tries to step forward, he feels glued to the ground. It’s impossible to move.</p><p>The mess of black turns, what could-be-should-be a head twists until it looks at him. Nothing else moves. It’s like an owl, with how neck it moves, except it’s a human skull that looks at him—though its jaw is protruding more than Madara is used to and its eyes are… black. The light vanishes, but somehow he knows that it’s staring at him.</p><p>The wind rustles the loose leaves on the ground.</p><p>“This place is not made for those still alive,” the thing says and—its voice. <em>Its voice.</em> Madara knows that voice, remembers lullabies sung, remembers a mother’s care. That voice—it’s his mother’s voice. “You should not be here, little one,” the thing continues. “But you were brought here for a reason.”</p><p>Without a doubt, this thing that stands before Madara, <em>(if it stands at all)</em>, is Death. Or something like Death. Madara swallows and licks his lips. There’s nothing here he can give this death-god-thing. His one eye is needed to return, <em>(without it, he doesn’t just fail Izuna, but the clan as a whole, leaving them without a leader)</em>, and he has nothing. This death-god-thing, <em>(it’s not his mother, can’t be his mother)</em>, isn’t looking to fight either—and that’s all Madara knows, <em>(he is born of war, made for it, shaped by it)</em>.</p><p>“I need my brother,” Madara says, the words spilling from his mouth like an unstoppable waterfall. “Please. I need him to come home.”</p><p>“He is home,” the death-god-thing croons. “And you could be too. You can stay here with Izuna and your brothers and the rest of your family. Here you could be at peace.”</p><p>
  <em>(<strike>DOn’t lISteN tO It. THiS Is a Lie. tHiS iS NoT peAcE</strike>.)</em>
</p><p>“No,” Madara says, barely remembering to tack on a “thank you,” afterward. “Izuna needs to come back with me.”</p><p>The rest of the death-god-thing’s body turns, accompanied by a sound that sounds like many bones breaking and cracking. “Does he?” The thing asks, still with Madara’s mother’s voice. “I will give you a chance.” Its voice takes on a singing lilt and he starts to wonder whether this thing really is—or had been, once—his mother.</p><p>A roaring sound accompanies the return of the wind. “How do you know it’s your mother?” The wicked wind hisses, sweeping through the clearing. “You never knew your mother. She’s dead. She never loved you!”</p><p>All the wind has done is spit doubts at Madara, throw words to make him pause and question and stop—but Madara won’t. Izuna is so close. <em>Madara will not give up.</em></p><p>“What’s this chance?” Madara asks, directing his words to the death-god-thing.</p><p>The death-god-thing leans forward, not quite bending down but looming over to send its skull face into Madara’s space, leaving him staring where the eyes should be. “If you leave here, without ever looking back, you can leave with Izuna. Both of you alive. If you fail, if you look back, if you glance over your shoulder, if your brother does not follow, then Izuna is mine and so are you.”</p><p>Madara hasn’t even seen Izuna—not really. A glimpse, enough to know its his brother, but not anything more. He has to trust the words of this death-god-thing, has to trust in words rather than actions, trust that the death-god-thing hasn’t lied, trust that the terms will remain true.</p><p>
  <em>(<strike>AN aLLiaNcE</strike>.)</em>
</p><p>“Deal,” Madara says. The death-god-thing grins. The skull shifting to accommodate it. Its teeth are sharp and pointed and then the world around Madara twists. The death-god-thing vanishes and Madara finds himself facing the way he came. Izuna out of sight, <em>(his last brother, stolen from his hands)</em>.</p><p>It’s easy, now, to go out of the compound. Madara doesn’t let himself think, just settles into the routine of moving quickly. The ghosts are ignored now, shades better left to the past, and he heads towards the gates. The moments he steps out of the gates, the world around changes into the dead forest he’d been in what feels like forever ago.</p><p>He keeps moving, <em>(don’t look back don’t look-back-don’tlookbackdon’tlookbackdon’tlOOKBACKDON’TLOOKBACK)</em>. Doesn’t stop.</p>
<hr/><p>The silent haunts him. It surrounds him, boxes him in, <em>(a cemetery full of gravestones; the silence is something you could drown in)</em>. It’s not that Madara doesn’t experience silence around Izuna, he does—but this feels forced, feels different, <em>(is he alone?)</em>.</p><p>He can’t look over his shoulder, has to trust that Izuna is there. At least, Madara knows what lies ahead, knows what obstacles he faces. But… that doesn’t make the silence easier to bear. His thoughts keep circling back to the deal, and it’s his ever-circling thoughts, the silence creeping on his nerves, that eventually has him speaking.</p><p>“It’s weirdly silent now,” he tells Izuna, <em>(the empty air)</em>. “There’s been this thing—the wind, I guess—with me for the most part. And it talks. It’s not nice or good or anything. But it spoke and it kept things from getting too silent.” Madara smiles. “Like you do. You keep me from getting lost in my head—though you’re not normally- Well, it’s different.”</p><p>Swallowing, Madara searches for a topic to talk about. Something to keep his run from getting tedious. “Do you remember when we were kids?” He says at last, drawing on memories from years ago, of days spent in the sun lazily lying beneath the clouds even when they should’ve been training. His voice falls into an easy story-telling cadence. He does his best to paint pictures of their childhood, of the things they had laughed about then, <em>(before the war stole their innocence)</em>.</p><p>He does his best to remind Izuna, <em>(if he is there)</em>, of what he has to live for. Why Izuna should come back. What Izuna has to live for.</p>
<hr/><p>“There’s a gate—up ahead,” Madara says at last, voice hoarse from all the talking. “I think it’s safe. It didn’t seem to try to hurt me.”</p><p>
  <em>(It reminds me of Hashirama, he doesn’t say.)</em>
</p><p>“All you have to do is walk through it. It should know what’s happening. It has some kind of life or intelligence or something, I think. If it does try to attack me, we’ll try to go over or under the roots and dart sideways on the other side. I don’t think it’ll go for you. That seems to defeat the purpose of… of my task.” Madara nods to himself and fixes his gaze on gate made of roots. They’re still floating, but they seem to be watching the other side, almost like they don’t care.</p><p>He breathes out slowly, and then starts walking forward. Still, the roots remain stationary. All too soon, though not soon enough, Madara’s walking through the gate. The roots part of him, except for one which curls around his wrist, <em>(Hey Madara, bet I can skip this stone further than you!)</em>, and then he’s through.</p><p>“I hope you got through,” Madara says, on the other side of the gate. “I can’t check and- Well. I’m assuming you’ve been with me the whole way through. The gate doesn’t seem to be antagonistic at least.”</p><p>The clearing is smaller than Madara remembers, and the forest on this side is considerably darker, the trees closer together. It seems so strange now, compared to the dead forest and the Uchiha Clan Compound full of ghosts.</p><p>“I wonder what your eyesight’s like,” Madara muses aloud to Izuna,<em> (who’s there; surely Izuna is following him)</em>. “Mine’s the same as always, but I’m…” <em>alive</em> he goes to say, but instead trails off. He might be alive but Izuna will be as well, <em>(Izuna has to live)</em>. “Anyway, it’s dark up ahead. You can’t even see without the Sharingan.”</p><p>He pauses before the shadowed forest, considers it. Here, the ground seems to be covered with more plants which means he’ll likely struggle more, <em>(but Madara has fought and struggled for so much of his life, he hardly knows how to do anything else)</em>. “I’m almost glad I can’t talk to you,” Madara says, a smile rising on his face as he steps into the forest. Almost immediately, he’s eclipsed by shadows. The darkness hides everything from him for a heartbeat, and then his Sharingan activates and he can see once again. “As I’m certain,” he continues, “that you would have something to say about my eyes. Well, lack of.”</p><p>Shoving his way through the undergrowth, and stepping over roots, Madara keeps talking. “Not that I would have made any other decision. I’m sure you would have made the same decision to be honest. An eye for a brother?” Though, Uchiha Tajima and most of the clan wouldn’t agree, but Madara and Izuna are brothers, <em>(the last brothers),</em> and in the face of that, an eye is only an eye even if it is important.</p><p>And, although Madara has not mentioned it to Izuna or anyone outside a single clan doctor, he knows his eyes would only last him another few years at the current rate of they’re deteriorating. The price of the Mangekyō Sharingan is well known, but not discussed often. And, in the end, there’s only a few—two—Mangekyō Sharingan users who have lived to retire off the battlefield completely blinded. Madara has doubts he’ll manage to live to such an age as while he doesn’t underestimate his own strength, the Uchiha Clan has many enemies and as Clan Head, Madara has even more.</p><p>“Still, I wonder, can you see in the darkness here? I suppose it does not matter, though, if you’re simply following in my footsteps. Then, only my path matters.” He leaps over a bush full of thorns, and continues his steady run. The silence of before is still unnerving, and the lack of answer—even with the circumstances, he waits to hear Izuna’s voice—is almost enough to have him hunch his shoulders against the silence. If nothing else, the wind had kept the silence at bay.</p><p>“I don’t think there’s far to go, but the distance here seems to be something out of a genjutsu. But… There’s one more obstacle to go,” Madara says, changing topics quickly rather than speaking a thought that’s begun to enter his mind. “It’s a river of corpses, wider and stronger than the Naka River. The river itself is not an obstacle but there is a price to cross it. A price, I think, you would not have me pay.”</p><p>Once again, Madara hesitates but this time for another reason. He can hear the sound of running water, <em>(<strike>LiSTeN</strike>)</em>. The river awaits.</p>
<hr/><p>The river is still full of corpses being carried swiftly downstream. Once again, Uchiha Tajima stands on the riverbank. His stance feels like something directly pulled from his memory when he’d run late to his lessons, be it for fighting or accounting, or dinner.</p><p>“The river has never been crossed twice,” Tajima says as Madara steps through the trees.</p><p>“Do you not cross it?” Madara asks, knowing perfectly well what Tajima meant but he will not be stopped, not when he’s got so far. He takes another step forward, closer to the riverbank.</p><p>Tajima doesn’t respond, instead watching Madara with steady eyes. “The same price as last time, I’m assuming.” Tajima nods.</p><p>It’s not easier this time. Harder, Madara thinks. He looks at the river, the bloated corpses, Tajima’s unimpressed face, the dark forest, and wishes that the last thing he sees is something happier, something better. The clan, Hikaku, <em>Izuna</em>.</p><p>The pain is agonising. It lances through his head and is worse than before. The darkness that surrounds him is sudden. Darkness with bright sparks. The eye sits in his hand, warm and soft and blood slides down his arm. Its deftly picked from his hand, by Tajima he assumes, though he can’t tell.</p><p>“You may cross,” Tajima says and the sound of the river stops. Slowly, Madara stumbles his way down the river. At the very least, the earlier use of the Sharingan means he knows what to expect although it’s not perfect.</p><p>He stumbles and trips and gets to his feet and keeps walking. Eventually, his feet hit the other riverbank and he pulls himself out of the muddy sandbank and onto the other side of the river. The sounds of running water begin again. The forest lies ahead.</p><p>“I’m sure you’re screaming at me,” Madara says as he walks slowly through the trees, unable to see where he’s going to move at a faster pace. “Or cursing me. Both are equally likely. But I could hardly do anything else. You’re my little brother.”</p><p>The noise of the river fades as Madara keeps walking, <em>(<strike>leT Us rESt; gIvE uS PeaCe; it HuRTs; kaMi I dOn’t WAnT tO dIe</strike>)</em>. “I’ve not actually got any idea how to get out of this forest,” he says. “Before I was in the desert and the world just shifted. It could’ve been the wind, it could’ve just been anything. This place, world, whatever it is, is strange.”</p><p>There’s no wind and nothing moves but Madara, but he would swear he can almost hear something speaking to him. “Definitely strange,” he says aloud. “It feels like I can hear something but I can’t make out the words. Or even really hear anything. It’s been happening the whole time too, I think. It’s strange. It…” He trails off. There are very few things that Izuna and he don’t talk about, one of them includes his meeting with Hashirama as a child, <em>(Madara chose his family but it had never been that simple)</em>.</p><p>“It sounds like something Hashirama would say at times,” Madara says, because Izuna can’t respond, <em>(and they’ve needed to talk about this for some time, because you shouldn’t avoid topics that cause conflict—you should deal with the conflict so it doesn’t build up, and this has been building up for a long long time)</em>. “Or maybe it’s his brother, Tobirama. It talks about dreams of peace. Talks about family and no war.”</p><p>
  <em>(Could Madara imagine a world with peace and no war? Before now after so many years of war, he’d say no. But… his brothers in the house, together and laughing. That had been peace. Perhaps it is possible. Perhaps his dreams as a child hadn’t been so farfetched.)</em>
</p><p>A thought strikes Madara. “Why am I thinking it’s the Senjus?” He asks aloud, more to himself than for Izuna. The answer is obviously that the forest and the weird gate has him thinking of Hashirama and, thus, his brother and clan but… there have to be more people, <em>(ghosts)</em>, out there wishing for peace. Madara’s brothers died here—he might’ve dreamed of peace, but maybe they want it too, now. “It could be anyone,” he says.</p><p>
  <em>(Is it you, Izuna, speaking to me? Do you remember how, as a child, you would listen to my dream of a peaceful world without war? Or did those dreams vanish when you grew disillusioned to the idea? A peaceful world… It seemed so impossible, but perhaps there is a chance.)</em>
</p><p>“Kami, I wish you could talk,” Madara says, bowing his head with one hand resting on a tree trunk. “I could do with your insight.” He breathes out slowly and then goes to keep walking when the ground beneath his feet <em>shifts</em>.</p><p>Tumbling downwards, grains of sand sliding against his skin. He gets his feet beneath him and surges upward, stopping his fall. He’s back in the desert, where he started. “But where do I go from here?” Because there’s no path, no obvious exit point. He’s back to the beginning but how does he get out.</p><p>Then, without warning, the wind howls and twists around him, <em>(and while Madara would hesitate to say he missed it, he did; it’s the one thing that has remained with him throughout)</em>. Sand blasts against his skin, painful, but at least it’s <em>something</em> in this silent world. “Did you really think you could save Izuna?” The wind asks, tauntingly. “Why would he follow you from his rest into war again? He died in a battle you started, a war you perpetrated. Why would he still be here? You can’t even leave this place either! Not only have you failed to save Izuna, but you’ve failed your clan too and left them leaderless.”</p><p>No matter how much he wants to, Madara knows he cannot fight the wind, it’s impossible. “Fuck you,” he says instead, spitting the words out. “I’ll damn well escape this place.” He bares his teeth. “This place cannot stop me from leaving.”</p><p>The wind cackles, as if it knows something Madara does not. “You don’t mention Izuna. You know he’s given up on you, if he ever followed you in the first back.”</p><p>Madara laughs. His voice rings out in the desert, swallowed by the never-ending expanse. In the face of it, the wind seems to fall silent, dropping down to curl around his legs. “You’re wrong,” he says, certain down to his very bones. And maybe he’s dumb and stupid and all the teasing things Izuna says—overly optimistic and hopeful, but Madara doesn’t doubt that Izuna’s behind him. “Izuna’s here with me,” he says, because Izuna follows him into war and into battle and has fought beside him in hell.</p><p>
  <em>(He gave up his Sharingan for Izuna, knowing Izuna would hate it, knowing Izuna would do the same thing if their situations were reversed.)</em>
</p><p>The wind slips upwards, curls around his shoulders like something that actually has some kind of weight.</p><p>“Izuna’s here,” Madara continues softly, “because he would hardly be elsewhere. We’re <em>family</em> and he would follow me anywhere. I would do the same for him. You might not know why, but it’s because of this thing called <em>love</em>.”</p><p>The wind is silent and the only thing Madara can hear is the hammering of his heartbeat. Izuna is with him. Izuna has to be with him. He begins to walk again. He’ll get nowhere if he stays still.</p><p>“Take care,” the wind says, suddenly and without warning, “of my brother.”</p><p>
  <em>(That voice! That’s- That’s Madara’s voice!)</em>
</p><p>The wind surges, whistling around him, and the world twists around him and-</p>
<hr/><p>Is he awake or asleep? Is he alive or dead?</p><p>
  <em>If only brothers lived longer lives. If only lives weren’t cut short by the war. If only we had peace. Do not waste what now is.</em>
</p><p>Once again, it sounds like Senju Tobirama, <em>(or is it…)</em>.</p><p>
  <em>(And Izuna's chest<br/>
</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Slowly</em>
</p><p>
  <em>starts</em>
</p><p>
  <em>moving.)</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>Madara wakes up with a gasp. Instantly, he’s turning to Izuna, <em>(he can’t see, he can’t see, he can’t see)</em>, reaching out with his hand. Izuna’s hand grips his in turn, tight, and Madara can feels his pulse rapid-quick beneath his fingers.</p><p>“Izuna?” He says, barely daring to hope.</p><p>“Madara,” Izuna chokes out. “Your eyes!”</p><p>Madara pulls his littlest brother to his chest. “For you,” he says, “<em>anything</em>.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is soooooo <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverUtahraptor">Silver's</a> fault. Absolutely, without a doubt, Silver's fault. But here you go, that Orpheus and Eurydice myth I promised, largely because I thought it would work very well for Madara and Izuna, and I was also listening to Hadestown at the time. That definitely had an impact. </p><p>I've written Izuna and Madara once before, still working on it, but in this, Madara definitely felt out of character. But I also wanted to finish it so I gave no shits and just went for it, so Madara may be out of character. Oh well, we live regardless. </p><p>Okay, so. You see something vaguely similar to what guards the Underworld based off Greek mythology. Charon = Uchiha Tajima. The gate = the weird wooden gate here (I decided against having something like Cerberus). And then, of course, Hades was the weird death-god-thing. </p><p>I didn't try to merge mythologies here as I definitely didn't know enough about anything so, I just went off the Greek mythology for it rather than trying to merge things. </p><p>That said, whether anything happens is actually real... That's definitely a question. A lot of this could just be Madara's mind making things up - the voices, the similarities to things he knows, that might just be his thoughts. He's uncomfortable because he can't just fight his way out and he's not used to this. On the other hand, Tobirama Senju might actually be important here. He could, one might say, be an aspect of Death (hence why he has the whole edo tensei thing). </p><p>Moving on, the weird spelling and crossed out bits? Who's actually speaking? You tell me. Is it child!izuna speaking about his brother's dream? Is it Tobirama? Is it just those children lost to war and wanting something better but never getting the chance? </p><p>Now, the ending. It's rather open, isn't it? Where do they go from here? I might write an ending (or two), but I might now. One option is that it's all fake, that nothing really happened, and Madara was just hoping that Izuna would live and dreamed it all. Or perhaps things do change, and Izuna is alive. You tell me (or I might tell you, in time).</p><p>Thank you for giving this a read! I hope you enjoyed it. </p><p>Feel free to find me on <a href="https://silent-silver-slip.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a> if you want.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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